Daddy Dearest, but he doesn’t seem the least bit concerned.
“Did she tell you how many guys she slept with the night she got pregnant with Elle?”
Oh no.
Axelle gasps and covers her mouth.
“Oh, come on! Look at me.” He points to his face. “She looks nothing like me.”
He’s right. His blond hair and dark eyes don’t match Axelle’s coloring at all.
Axelle seems to follow my line of thought and bursts into silent sobs. Raven wraps her arms around her, and I simply stand there, totally stunned and completely useless.
“Me and the boys had some fun that night. Hottest chick in school was drunk as hell at a party.” The man’s words take up all the oxygen in the room, and the tension thickens with unbridled hostility. “Didn’t take much to get her so drunk she passed out. Shit, she probably weighed ninety pounds back then. We had our fun with you, taking turns, filling you up.”
“Get Axelle the fuck out of here.” Blake’s command snaps me out of the horrific story being told.
I grasp at Axelle, but she shoves me away.
“Axelle, please,” I whisper. “You don’t need to hear this.”
Tears fall freely down her cheeks, and she peers over at me with bloodshot eyes. “Yes, I do.”
Her father sneers at Layla. “You and your bastard kid.”
I watch with revulsion as every word he says chips away a piece of the girl I love. Her shoulders cave, and her face pales with each verbal blow.
“I married you because I thought you were Axelle’s dad. If you weren’t, why didn’t you say anything?” Layla’s face is white, her lips quivering.
“What was I supposed to do? Admit that I roofied the hottest chick in school so the boys and me could gang-bang her? I’d end up in jail.”
Blake’s practically vibrating now. I reach forward and grab Axelle’s hand, afraid the worst is coming and offering my support.
Stewart studies Blake through narrowed eyes. “Haven’t you been listening, asshole? You don’t want her. She’s garbage. Even back in high school, no one stepped up. Not one of the guys claimed the baby as their kid. No one wanted them.”
Crack!
Some would think the sound came from Blake’s fist as he finally shut that piece of shit up by slamming it into the guy’s nose.
That may be true, but what I heard was the crack of Axelle’s heart breaking.
One
Present Day…
Killian
The sun beats down on my back as I hunch over my phone. My eyes devour line by line of the latest sci-fi novel by my favorite author, Mikel Vermouch. Aliens have implanted their seed in hundreds of unsuspecting human females, their gestation cycle is half the length of a human’s, it’s been four months, and shit’s about to get ugly.
Voices flood my fictional world, along with the opening and slamming of doors signaling my time is up, and the best part of my day is about to begin.
I shove my phone into my backpack and lean against the picnic table, my gaze zeroing in on a door that leads to her last class. Creative Writing, room E34.
One by one, UNLV college students filter out of the room, and I search for her from behind my sunglasses: a guy shoving a book in his bag, another popping in his earbuds, a string of women I don’t even notice beyond their hair color, and then finally… I suck in a breath.
Axelle.
Fuck, time slows like some cheesy chick-flick, and I drink in every inch of her—from all that chestnut hair she bitches about being too thick to her baggy tee that droops on one side to reveal the smoothest olive-skinned shoulder, and those dick-hardening yoga pants that hug her ass. I groan as she pulls her backpack straps on, taking the fabric of her shirt on a ride up her slender belly. Gorgeous. I want her.
I tell myself it’s possible to live the kind of life I read about in books. The kind where ordinary men can become extraordinary and the geek wins the girl. Even if that girl is more beautiful than anything he could possibly deserve. Somehow the fates would favor him or some dynamic bullshit within would shine through and show her he’s a fucking superhero.
Yeah… I tell myself it’s possible.
But experience has proven it sure as shit is not.
Her eyes find me almost immediately, and she lifts her chin before heading over. Green Converse-clad feet trudge through the grassy commons, and she smiles, watching me watching her. Those thick lips can deliver a slicing word and bring